The Exilir And The Poison

Chapter 4: The Martyr

“The heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like leaves until one day there are none. No hopes. Nothing remains.”
~Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha

____________

Time had lost its meaning for him. It was a clock ticking by, a warning, a sign sometimes, a powerless entity ineffective against the pain gyrating toward him. It brought no difference in his life. He wanted to do something, to end the pain or maybe feel more of it. Anything to change his life in the stagnant waters spoiling things for those around him. What had his mother done to deserve her only child go through this pain? Then why wasn’t her happiness a motivation strong enough for him to do something? For how long was he going to make his parents miserable? He wished there was another way to end it. But he was still lying on his bed, a cigarette dangling between his thumb and the index finger. This was the first time he burned himself. Amid tears and desperation to make her go away, he did it. He wanted her tom stop tormenting him, stop mocking him.

“I’ll be dead. My love for Chirag will be eternal. I loved him and died for him. What did you do? ”

“It’s not a competition.”

“If it was, you’d be a loser.” She giggled. He always marveled at her ability to change her moods by merely seeing him suffering.

“So be it. I’ve always been a loser.” He wiped his face, taking a deep breath. If she saw he was hurting, maybe she would go away.

She didn’t. She was his secret, his poison, his permanent grief, his death. Her memories were his lifelong companion, the sweet, sour and the bitter ones.

“Coward!”

“I’m not a coward,” he yelled out at nothing. She was silent again.

Ranveer glanced at the clock. It was afternoon. He spent his entire day in his room, his family unaware of his presence so far. He was thankful for one more thing. His habit of sneaking in and out of the house without warning anyone. He couldn’t tell why he wanted to hide from his family. It was probably a guilt that he hadn’t been around them when he should have been there to ease their grief. He couldn’t burden them with the pain he didn’t know how to end. It was going to be with him until the end. Yet he wanted to do something for them.

At night, Ranveer left his house again and went back to his office, attending the business he was supposed to be finishing in the afternoon. The work had to be on the track. When the morning came, Puneet informed him it was time to send the cheque to the Parekh family.

“Do you want me to do it, sir?”

“No, I’ll do it myself.”

In the next few hours, he stood at the doorstep of the apartment the Parekhs lived. His heartbeats were uneven, glassy eyes stared at the building, and an invisible stone grew heavier on his chest. When the door opened, shocked, uncomfortable faces met him, eyes glancing away in the direction from him. He told them why he was here. Mitesh kaka thanked him, told him he needed not worry. But he was doing it for the family of his Mota Babuji; they needed his help and they weren’t going to starve or remain homeless as long as he lived.

Sharman didn’t live in Mumbai anymore. He had moved elsewhere in search of a new job that paid him well. Devarsh was working in a company, and dating the sister of a lawyer. The lawyer happened to be Ritika’a close friend. Ranveer had met him a couple of times and often was surprised at the man’s wild nature. One thing Shikhar – yes, that’s what his name was – always took pride in was how he could change women as many as he wanted. Ranveer knew it wasn’t his business to guide someone or judge them, but he knew what betrayal felt like. How it destroyed people. How they couldn’t bring themselves to trust someone else.